


Coercion

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Just the Tip, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rey is a sneaky little brat, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vague Mafia setting, Very mild darkfic, bratty Rey rights campaign, coercive behavior on all sides, no beta we die like men, rey is a palpatine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: Rey is used to getting what she wants.And Ben Solo would never deny her.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 135
Kudos: 1194





	Coercion

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn’t love a good old possessive sneaky Rey

She’s been watching him for a long time.

Her days are rather monotonous; broken up only with those strange dinner guests of her Grandfather’s. They’d arrive on no particular schedule, in any weather, parading through the house with ill intent. Most of them were of no interest to Rey: thugs in suits. Predictable men and women, all who had more money and influence than they knew what to do with. They paid her little attention—most of them probably observed her as a quiet pet of an influential bloodline. 

Not him, though.

Solo was a head taller than the rest and  _ appeared  _ twice as intimidating, his frame that of a mountain; yet when she was sixteen she’d stumbled upon him in the library, carefully folding a small origami bird with his large, clumsy fingers. Wordlessly, he placed it in her open palm with a grace unbefitting of his size, carefully stepping around her—like  _ she _ was the scary one in her plaid skirt and uneven socks. 

_ Thanks, _ she’d told him, the paper turning transparent when held up to the sunlight.  _ It’s pretty. _

He’d stiffly nodded, eyes tracing her skinned knees, an unreadable expression on his face.

Since then she’d had two birthdays: a new origami pet had appeared each time, balanced on a windowframe in the little alcove she frequented on the second floor, the place where she often lost herself in books. She recognized it for what it was: a gift, from a too-tall bloodhound who belonged to her grandfather.

Rey’s lost count of the numerous dinners she’d spent shyly glancing up at him from across the table; he was as handsome as the men her stories described, dark in a way that made her stomach pleasantly flip. Eyes soulful when they met her own, burning hot and sated like embers. She hated herself a little bit for reducing him to fantasy, as he was obviously wholey his own person; but she was always distracted by the movements of his throat, or the breadth of his shoulders. She privately,  _ selfishly _ , imagined he was the most giving of lovers; how could he not be, with a pink, lush mouth that begged for a kiss? How  _ still _ he could hold her in his arms as he trailed his lips along her shoulders, down her belly, towards a place she’d never let anyone else touch.

Perhaps her grandfather only owned the most delicate of silverware, but they always appeared so small in Ben’s hands. Lovely hands with marred knuckles, heavy and veined. Bloodstained, probably, though she never saw it. Warm as sunlight—this she knew for a fact, taking advantage of seating arrangements to brush against him when passing a dish.

Big hands that touched the small of her back when nobody else was looking. Hands that would tug her collar into place while he bent close to murmur in her ear. Hands that held doors, or her coat, or the trigger of a gun.

It’s his hands—thick, indecent fingers, who let him out without gloves?— she thinks of, hovering on the threshold of the guestroom, the clock in the foyer chiming entirely too late for good deeds. 

Ben had been summoned for dinner tonight, talked  _ business  _ afterwards with grandfather in the parlor. Rey dozed off with her head in Ben’s lap, fire crackling away, perfectly content: the wool of his trousers rough against her cheek, his fingers combing her hair. Eventually the conversation had dropped off and her grandfather had retired for the evening, leaving them alone.

Ben hadn’t even lasted ten minutes.  _ Time for sleep, sweetheart _ whispered in her ear, a hand squeezing her shoulder, strong arms carrying her to bed.

Solo called her pet names all her life; variations of sweetness that she had gotten slightly addicted to.  _ Peanut _ when she was funny.  _ Sweetheart  _ when she behaved.  _ Brat  _ when she was spoiled. 

And she was often spoiled silly.

Rey liked getting what she wanted. And you never got it without taking—a fact of which she reminds herself, standing in the hallway mere feet from where Ben slept.

The guest room is pitch black when she opens the door; but she knows the house by heart—an advantage of being trapped at Palpatine Manor her entire life. It’s easy to slip along floorboards without the use of eyes, tiptoeing to the large mattress in the center of the room—but not before closing and locking the door behind her.

“Rey.”

His voice cuts through the veiled darkness. It’s meant as a warning, but she just grins and hurries towards it like a beacon, dropping her robe as she knees up on the bed.

“Hi. You’re awake?”

“I wonder why,” he says dryly, clicking on the lamp, squinting as his eyes adjust. “What do you think you’re doing?” He’s blissfully shirtless, the blanket covering far too much skin; her eyes happily trace the little tuft of hair trailing down between his hips, back up to the sizable scar across his middle.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she adjusts the duvet innocently, crawling under. “My room is  _ so _ cold.”

“I’ll go put on a fire for you.”

“Very unnecessary when I can just...stay here, don’t you think?”

Ben narrows his eyes, hissing when her chilly feet find his calf; it’s bare—thrilling to imagine if the blanket slipped just so, she’d see him in only briefs. 

Or perhaps, if she was lucky, nothing at all.

“I just want to sleep,” she pouts, pulling the covers under her breasts, puffing them up in a bid to rock his usual steadfast nature: it’s hard to miss the slight flicker of his eyes at the hem of her chemise.

“Just sleep?” 

He looks like he could use it, poor thing: Ben has always had dark circles under his eyes. But now, hair rumpled and face creased with a restless sleep, he’s delectable.

“Why? Something else on your mind?”

“Rey,” he says quietly. Pleading. It’s really too bad. If he’d wanted mercy, he should’ve slept somewhere safer than Palpatine Manor.

“Or  _ Whatever _ you want,” she purrs, rolling closer, until her mouth hovers at his bicep. She looks up at him from under her lashes, coaxing, teasing. “Ben.”

Something snaps.

He’s heavier than she anticipated; all but slams her back into the bed beneath him with a snarl. Air is squeezed from her lungs in a violent exhalation, and she struggles to take it back with his weight pressing her down.

_ Oh _ . That’s-

“I’m only going to ask again once, Rey,” his nose skimming her jaw, teeth close to the vulnerable parts of her throat. “What are you doing?”

“ _ Nghh—”  _ she wriggles ineffectually beneath him, testing the strange newness of being  _ truly  _ pinned. There’s an odd flutter in places she’d rather not admit, for a girl who prided herself on her strength and independence. He leans up, grabbing one of her wrists to trap it above her head—not cruelly tight, but enough to keep it there no matter how hard she pulled.

“Use your words,” he instructs, muscles shifting. The blanket has freed him from its grasp; she’s entreated to a wide expanse of thigh, the slightest roll of healthy fat over the elastic edge of his boxers.

Speaking of— _ that thing  _ which is concealed by his only item of clothing is...looking larger than she’d hoped. Rey swallows, eyes jerking up. Curse her knack for biting off more than she could chew.

“Go on,” he nudges, patient. His hand flexes around her wrist. “Don’t be a brat. When I ask a question, you answer.”

She’s breathless—still, she answers. “I was hoping you’d finally be brave enough to fuck me.”

The dim lamplight casts his expression in chiaroscuro, but she can tell he goes a little slack-jawed. Perhaps because she’s never dared to use language like that—surely he can’t be suprised by the request itself? Impossible, that she imagined this strange dance with him these past few months, those gentle touches in dark hallways: chaste but yearning.

“Brave?” He repeats, voice like a knife edge, capable of leaning any which way. The conflict in his face is bare, eyes drawn to her mouth.

Ben has never denied her anything before.

She attempts to roll her hips beneath him, scowling when it results in the barest of wiggles, like a small ocean swell against a naval vessel. 

“We shouldn’t,” he says finally, watching her squirm. His eyes trail down over her collarbones, over where the strap of her nightgown has fallen. Her nipples are tight in the cool night air; no doubt he could see them pointed beneath the silk.

She’d chosen a soft, dusky pink tonight. The same color as her—

“But I want to,” she plies him sweetly. “And you promised to always give me what I want.”

“So spoiled,” his hand flexes. “Never a day without for little Rey.”

She giggles, adrenaline buzzing. If he wasn’t holding her down, she’d float away, light as air. “And we certainly don’t want to start now, yes?”

“Rey,” he sighs, “your grandfather-“

“This isn’t about  _ him, _ ” she kicks uselessly at the bed, a pale imitation of stomping her feet. 

“He wouldn’t want me to,” he continues, unphased. “He’s made that very clear.”

“Ben,  _ please.” _

It’s a very believable accident, that all her rustling causes her nightgown to slip down further, exposing the swell of one breast fully. For a moment, she panics, afraid that he’d be unimpressed with her slight frame. She was never particularly well-endowed, her one fear that Ben might find her lacking.

Obviously, she worries for nothing, because he looks like he’s been struck in the face with lust, his already prominent erection twitching in his boxers. 

“Rey,” he says, voice all gravelly and aching. Might as well be begging, for the tortured look in his eyes. 

She blows hair out from her eyes, feeling emboldened, concentrated by desire. “I want you to fuck me into the mattress, Ben. Right here. In this house,” she trails off, considering what else might be helpful to divulge. “I’ve dreamed about it, you know.”

_ Blissfully,  _ his hand finally releases her wrist—instead reaching for her breast. The movement is a dam breaking, a wall tumbling down. Vindication.

“Well,” he murmurs in defeat, cupping her skin, sliding his fingers along her ribs, “-maybe just. A little.”

She bites down her triumphant smile; he’s quick to lower his head and kiss it away with a roll of his eyes. He takes his time licking into her mouth until she’s lightheaded again, his free hand curved around her jaw, holding her still.

“Are you going to behave?” His swollen lips graze hers, tasting like toothpaste. “My patience for you isn’t as endless as you believe, Rey.”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” she leans back on her elbows, elated. “Promise.”

He finds her nipple, quickly rolling it beneath deft fingers, a shade from hurt—mesmerized by the sight of her pebbling skin, working until it’s reddened and sensitive. Embarrassing, how quickly the rough treatment makes her start to pant and bite her tongue.

“Does that feel good?”

Rey nods, eyes wide, watching as his hand manages to cover her entire breast. Truth be told, she hardly thought she’d get this far; fantasy didn’t do well as reality. His expression remains so  _ tortured,  _ face twisted with indecision.

Silently, she hopes he gives in.

“We should...at least make them match, hm?” He sounds like he’s picking out kitchen paint or a pair of socks, not her body.

She nods: it’s clearly what he needs to hear. Her  _ permission _ to be defiled.

Not even a second passes before fingers tug her chemise around her waist, tan skin on display as she gasps and writhes. He’s equally if not more cruel, palming her with ease, dragging his fingernails until red lines kiss her skin. He tugs at her nipples just to hear her whimper; pinches until she’s forced to follow the movement, arching her back for relief.

“That’s nice,” he praises when she bites back another whine, squeezing sore skin. “You have the prettiest little tits, Rey. I’m just going to lick one, alright? Just one. No more—we really shouldn’t.”

She nods, tensing—trying to prepare for the onslaught of sensation, but it’s not  _ enough. _

It’s a beautiful contrast; his warm, soft tongue pressed against her abused skin. A slow circle, painfully gentle, followed by short flicks that make her quiver.

His mouth pops off with a wet sound, filthy and decadent. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” he rasps, nosing her other breast. “Does that feel good? How about I do the other one?”

She nods vigorously, nose scrunched; he kisses his way to her other nipple, licking her skin like she’s something to be savored. “Just a few, okay. I know they’re sore. Then we’ll go to bed.”

But it  _ isn’t _ a few—at first it’s all whisper-sweet and endearing, but the longer he stays, the rougher he gets; eventually she realizes that no amount of polite tugging on his hair was going to help. Ben soldiers on, until he’s nipping, scraping his teeth, kneading her tits until they’re pink, until she’s forced to  _ beg. _

And even then, he takes his time over her pleas: sucking and licking her into oblivion—

He lifts his head, finally releasing her, allowing the sensations to fade as she gulps air. “I bet you’re wet, hm? I won’t make you show me. It’s alright if you made a mess.”

She glances down between them with a hiccup, wiping at her face; there’s an embarrassing wet patch on her underwear caused by all his hard work—even now, her cunt squeezes at the memory of his tongue, imagining it’s quick work in other places.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, entirely unapologetic. His brow softens.

“How about I rub  _ just _ above your panties, ok?” He pushes a hand between them, curling his first knuckle, petting through the wetness. Rey nods helplessly, reduced to nerve endings. “That’s not  _ so _ bad, is it, princess?” He sounds like he’s trying to convince  _ himself _ like they haven’t crossed lines, even as his fingertips search for her clit.

“Ben,” she gasps when the edge of his knuckle brushes the perfect spot, slick underwear pulled just right. “No—so good.”

“A little more, ok? Can you do that?” He traces back and forth in the same spot, watching her face with rapt attention, like she’s a gift he’s been wanting for so long he’s not sure what to do with the reality of possessing it. “These are cute underwear, Rey. But-” he settles his fingertip over her slit, pushing the fabric into her with a smirk, “-I bet your little cunt is even cuter.”

He’s gentle when he hooks a finger in the gusset of her panties, pulling them away from her pussy and watching her own slick gleam in the lamplight. 

“So pretty,” he gazes down between her legs with enough reverence to make her blush. “You’re so wet. You must be aching.”

She tilts her hips, wincing through a sudden wind of excess energy that’s shuddered into her bones; Rey feels like he’s lit her up, every muscle twitching in delight, primed to be touched. 

“I’ll just touch with one finger,” he says, moving before she even has a chance to agree. “I’ll be gentle. One finger. That’s all.”

She nearly cries with relief: the pressure light as he taps her bare clit and presses down—

And then—

—Doesn’t move.

“Ben,” she sobs, jerking her hips: he follows the movement, pulling back just enough that she can’t grind against him. “Ben I want—”

“We can’t, baby. I know. Don’t cry.”

“ _ Please.” _

_ “ _ Hush. You’re so soft and wet, huh? I’ll stroke up and down for a bit. Just for a while, until you calm down. Then we’ll put you to sleep.”

Rey grits her teeth, trying not to scream. Ben keeps his word, his pace even and slow as his finger lifts to the tip of her pussy, dragging back down, barely kissing her hole, sliding through the slick gathered there—only to start all over again.

_ Torture _ , she thinks.  _ This isn’t sex. This is torture. _

_ “ _ I'll have to hold you open if you can’t stop squirming. You need to relax.” The thumb of his free hand catches her labia, parting her until she can feel his breath on her swollen pussy. The sensation is enough to make her convulse.

“I was right,” he kisses her thigh. “Look how  _ inviting _ you are like this. Your pretty little hole all open and ready for me. What do you think about a finger, huh? Can you be nice and quiet if I slip in just one?”

“Yes, yes I will,” she moans as he pushes inside, immediately searching around her front wall with startling precision, like he’s  _ milking  _ her for an orgasm. It’s a slight stretch—his fingers are easily twice the thickness of her own, the movements deeper than she could ever hope to imitate.

“That’s it. You let me in so good, baby. Come on. All those nice little whimpers for me. You needed this, huh?”

Rey seizes up when his thumb finds her clit, tracing a quick pattern over and  _ over _ in time with the slow fuck of his finger inside of her cunt. She wants to  _ howl _ —

“I won’t stop, Rey,” he coaxes, watching her with blown-out pupils. “No more than this, but I won’t stop, since you need it so bad. I’ll take care of you. Fuck, Rey—I’m so hard baby. Look what you did.”

She blinks, hazy as she tilts her head down to find that Ben’s taken himself in hand, slowly pumping his hand over the purpling head. It’s as thick as her wrist, twitching with each pass of his tight grip, leaking from the tip.

“I’m just—gonna rub it up against your little pussy ok? Up and down for a bit. You did such a good job getting so wet, Rey. I’m so proud of you. Nothing else, just gotta—oh  _ christ,  _ darling.”

Rey cries as the velvet head dips between her folds only to emerge glistening, bumping her swollen clit. His cock settles heavy between the lips of her cunt, Ben slowly rocking, head ducked to watch as he parts her open over and over until she’s canting up, following the movement as much as he allows.

It’s all soft and warm and gentle, so unlike the ravagement she’d been expecting; she watches as he leaks onto her mound with each pass, balls heavy on the slight curve of her heated bottom. There’s so much of him to delight in her brain hardly knows where to start.

She’s going to die if he doesn’t fuck her.

“You made a mess with your cunt, baby. Look how sticky. I think—I think I’ll have to just put in the tip. To clean you up, ok? No more. You can trust me. I’m not going to fuck you,” he swears, teeth gritted, pulse jumping in his neck with each word. “Just the tip.”

He says it like he really believes it, too.

Rey spreads her legs, staring up at him in awe. Watches owlishly as the thick head notches in, sliding forward, the stretch unbelievable. She scrabbles for purchase against the bedsheet, huffing through it as the slight sting gives way.

“J-just the tip?” She repeats, fluttering; adjusting to the sensation of being held open.

“Aw, does that feel good?” He croons, petting her hair back with sticky fingers, arranging her hips so the angle forces him to slide a half-inch deeper; Rey grunts as he fills her up a smidge. 

“Oh, I’m sorry baby,” he soothes, kissing the tip of her nose. “You’re so wet. I can’t help it.”

“It feels good,” she rocks, whimpering. “Ben, I want—”

“I  _ can’t.” _

“You’re the only one, Ben,” she hiccups, tilting her mouth for a kiss, spreading her legs, presenting herself for taking. “You’re the only man I want.”

He curses, slapping a hand over her mouth, hips shuddering. “Fuck. Fuck—okay. You’ve been so good. Such a good girl. I’ll just go in all the way so you can feel it. Look at that—take every inch for me? There you go. Just be still.”

Rey  _ drools  _ into his palm, eyes fluttering when he slides home. She clenches around him, already close to the edge, body like a livewire he’s wielding too cautiously, despite her begging to spark. His cock twitches inside of her—she’s stuffed full and yet _ still _ there’s an inch or two at the root of him to go.

“All the way inside,” he groans, shallowly moving a hair’s breadth within. “You took the whole thing, princess.”

She nods, hot tears leaking down her cheeks. Hates viciously that she’s stuck beneath him with no leverage. 

“I’m gonna move a little. To make you feel good. Nothing else.” Her muffled  _ please _ is lost against his palm; but her loud sob isn’t when he thrusts, driving solidly towards where she needs it. 

“Wanna fuck you nice and hard, baby. I promise I won’t come in you. You’re just so tight—there you go, squeeze again and I’ll fuck you good like you want. Can you take it for me?”

She can’t even  _ hear  _ him—there’s only the feeling of his cock, sliding sweetly between her legs, working her wet, open hole. Her body falls pliant, too exhausted to do much else but allow the beginning of her orgasm to ripple through her; pouring from her cunt, leaking up her spine until her hair stands on end and her jaw locks up. 

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna come on my cock, aren’t you? Are you gonna be good and ask first? Tell me to make you come, baby.”

Teary eyed, Rey squeezes him, amplifying the sensation; she feels like a raw bruise beneath his body, an instrument he’s studied well. “Please. Please Ben. ‘M gonna— _ oh!” _

_ “Fuck,  _ that’s a good girl, Rey,” his hips are relentless, fucking her through orgasm at a punishing pace, the entire bed-frame shaking as hard as her legs. Her orgasm soars, thick and heady and unending.

“Gonna keep you,” he growls, hand wrapping around her throat. “Mine. You’ve  _ been _ mine. Gonna fill you up, darling, so everyone knows who owns you.”

She’s already crying, desperate for him, and the possessive way his hands steal her air doesn’t help. Rey has always known the pleasure of wanting something and getting it; but with Ben,  _ she’s  _ become the coveted obsession. A pretty object for use in his bed, cherished beyond compare.

_ Reckless _ , he’d called her once, pulling her into his lap at a soirée held in the manor months ago. Back then, Rey had been so flustered by the expanse of a hand on her thigh, she missed that nobody else even blinked.

He says she belongs to him—perhaps she’s the last one to know.  _ My patience for you is not endless,  _ he’d said. 

For that, she’s so glad.

Ben’s eyes are black, sweat in his hair, practically snarling as he fucks. “You’re gonna make me stuff that cute cunt with come, Rey. Is that what you want?”

She nods helplessly, nipping his thumb, catching his gaze and refusing to let go. “Come in me,  _ please.  _ Wanna feel it.”

Rey decides she likes being owned; his spend, hot and thick inside of her, her limbs trapped beneath his bulk. Thoroughly possessed, marked up with bruises and cum and teeth—there would be no mistaking it, the man who kept her heart. Not when he groans above her, burying his cock deep enough to make her squeal.

She smiles so wide it’s painful; after all, Rey  _ loves _ getting what she wants.  


Even if it hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> @thevuaslog on the bird site ;)


End file.
